


Swallowing Lilies

by Reverse Justice (56leon)



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Death, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Not A Happy Ending, Pining, Spoilers, Unrequited Love, as canon compliant as hanahaki is gonna get at least, god this is gonna be a huge spoiler for the fic itself but, spoilers for the last Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/56leon/pseuds/Reverse%20Justice
Summary: Akira has roses blooming in his throat. They're beautiful, they're vibrant, they're symbols of his love.And they're slowly killing him from the inside.(In which Akira Kurusu develops hanahaki for one Goro Akechi, and struggles with the cost.)





	Swallowing Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the ShuAke Anthology, but things happened, or didn't happen, and so I dropped out. Instead, now you get to read it for free! \o/

****Akira doesn’t know when the seeds are planted, really- in all honesty, it may have been as early as the incident at the television station. Regardless, though, they’re _there,_ but they only begin manifesting when _he_ starts visiting LeBlanc.

It’s innocent the first day. Akira comes home from his shift at the flower store in Shibuya, and Akechi is sitting at the counter. There’s a brief exchange, and Akechi smiles at him for just a split second- but it’s enough, apparently, and Akira feels a small jolt run down his body. He’s not an idiot, he knows what metaphorical butterflies feel like - and he likes to believe he has enough control on his emotions to know what a _crush_ feels like - but this is different. It’s _physical,_ and if he were in any position to joke around, he’d wonder if the butterflies are trying to finally escape. Instead of the banter, however, he excuses himself to the bathroom, hoping it’s not food poisoning; Morgana jumps out of his bag before he enters, but he can still hear his concerned voice right outside the door.

At first, it’s dry heaving into the toilet, hands propping himself against the porcelain seat. He still doesn’t even know _why,_ and it’s only more confusing that nothing comes out when he’s eaten plenty that day. However, he retches one more time and he can _feel_ it, something moving up his esophagus. A few more coughs is all it takes for it to dislodge from his throat, and he spits it out into the water before staring at it in confusion.

It’s a rose petal, bright and cheerful red, and while Akira’s not _unfamiliar_ with them - his line of work doesn’t leave him with the chance - he’s confused as to why it’s decided to come from his mouth. He hadn’t eaten any recently, or ever that he could recall, and it’s completely intact, looking as though it hadn’t been in his stomach at all.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much time to think about it as he coughs again, and again, and the feeling of _more_ welling up in his throat forces him back down into the toilet, chest heaving as more petals fall into the basin. At first they’re only petals, but he can see a few buds mixed in, and his last, _particularly_ painful cough ends with a small segment of thorny vine. He lets himself rest for a moment, making sure nothing else comes up before swallowing thickly and flushing the toilet.

 _Maybe it’s a Metaverse thing,_ he reasons with himself, because nothing in the real world can cause him to puke flowers- nothing that he knows of, at least. He had been hit with a few attacks the day before, and while everything had checked out with Futaba after the battle, maybe it’s a belated reaction that they had never encountered before. He pulls his phone from his pocket to send a quick message to her about it before groaning softly - his throat is still scratched up, and his stomach seems to be faring no better - and standing up.

Morgana’s still meowing, but he quiets down once Akira steps out of the bathroom. “You okay there, Joker?”

“I’m fine,” he directs his answer to Sojiro, who’s giving him a concerned yet unimpressed stare from his spot behind the counter, so as to not draw suspicion. “Probably just ate something bad at school.”

Sojiro doesn’t respond, simply shaking his head in exasperation, but Akechi does, frowning. “Take care of yourself. Exams are coming up soon, you know.”

“Thank you, _darling_.” Akira waves him off and heads upstairs without looking at him; he can feel the roses coming up again already. He can only hope they’re gone by tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks of flowers and chest pains later, Akira has to rethink the situation.

 

* * *

 

He’s not _stupid,_ but there’s a small fear that prevents him from digging too deep into the web. He does a preliminary search, and while he’s relieved that most of the results confirm that he’s not alone in his suffering, the rest of the information given doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in him.

 _Hanahaki disease,_ they all read, and he frowns as he scrolls, some video advertisement on the webpage drowning out his studying music as well as his thoughts. The disease sounds far prettier than it feels. _A rare illness in which the patient suffers from-_

That’s where he hesitates, rereading the line to make sure he hasn’t misread. _Unrequited love._ Attraction is one thing, yes, and he _knows_ he’s attracted to Akechi- who wouldn’t be, when he’s as attractive and charismatic in real life as he is on TV? But _love_ is a line he doesn’t want to cross, especially not when he realizes that underneath that smile is a killer.

No, there’s no way in _hell_ that Akira Kurusu, teenage delinquent and wanted leader of the Phantom Thieves, is in love with a detective who wants him dead. No amount of butterflies or puking roses are going to convince him, he’s just....not........

_Cut the shit, Kurusu. You’re whipped._

His head hits his keyboard as he groans softly, writing a line of _g_ s across a letter drafted to his manager. _Good game, Akira,_ they seem to say. _You’re such an idiot._

 

* * *

 

“No coffee today?”

Akechi is still in _LeBlanc_ despite not being a paying customer on that particular afternoon, but his mere presence attracts customers and so it's obvious to Akira as to why Sojiro lets him stay. “Not today,” he replies as he shifts in his seat to look over at where Akira is standing in the doorway, conjuring up a tired smile. “I'm not allowed to drink anything acidic for a bit.”

“Even if you were, I wouldn't be serving you,” Soujiro interjects upon hearing the wistful sigh in Akechi’s voice; his next sentence is incredulous, aimed directly at Akira. “This kid lands himself in the hospital with all sorts of problems, and then leaves a day later and expects me to kill him with a double shot with _two_ pumps of caramel.”

It takes Akira a moment to process the information (it's the first time he's ever heard Akechi’s order and it's surprisingly childish- _wait why was he in the hospital_ ), and when he does, he responds by simply raising an eyebrow at the other. Worry clenches around his heart, but he's not stupid enough to show it on his face- not yet, at least, even though he wants to glare Akechi down for being such a....such a _detective._

Still, Akechi seems to catch on, and laughs uncomfortably. “It wasn't that bad, really. I had just been sick for a while, and didn't realise it was getting worse until recently. As it turns out, I’m allergic to one of the ingredients in a new supplement I was trying.”

“Right.” It sounds believable, and that's _almost_ the sole reason Akira is still suspicious; the other reason is that suspicion is the only emotion currently strong enough to drown out the side of him that wants to turn into a mother hen. “Mind telling me what it is? Don't want to accidentally kill the most popular guy in Japan.”

That earns another awkward chuckle. “I hope the insinuation isn't that you'd prefer to do it on purpose.” Akechi’s eyes shift to the side, and if Akira doesn't know better, he would almost believe that the other is nervous, or even _embarrassed_. “Still....I would prefer not to say. Let me have some secrets, too.”

“Celebrities don't have secrets,” is Akira’s sarcastic response, but drops the subject upon seeing Akechi grow even more agitated. Right, _LeBlanc_ is some sort of small haven for him, Akira remembers, and it would behoove him for it to stay that way. _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,_ he tries to reason. “But I suppose high school students who drink too much coffee and don't get enough rest can afford a few.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” With the way relief washes over Akechi’s face, it gets harder to convince himself that he's being anything but selfish; even the roses seem to agree with him as his heart latches onto the peaceful smile, trying to force a few petals down.

Akechi says something else, but replying is out of the question and so he just listens, trying to swallow his feelings- metaphorically and literally. It's not until several minutes later that Akechi incorrectly interprets Akira’s silence as annoyance and excuses himself from LeBlanc. As much as Akira wants to correct him - a desire that fluctuates between _very much_ and _not at all_ within the span of several seconds - Akechi’s already out the door by the time he can so much as open his mouth, and maybe it had been a futile attempt in the first place.

The thorns in his throat do nothing to help.

 

* * *

 

His manager is the first to recognize his illness, and she understands it faster than he does- most likely because _she’s_ not the one in a state of denial worse than Morgana’s. It’s almost ironic, in fact, the way she can tell that the ruby petals settled in his palm aren’t from the displays surrounding them. “Akira-kun,” she murmurs softly, trying to reassure him - _of what, he isn’t sure himself_ \- and rubbing his back as pink and coral rose petals mix with the assortment of other flowers in the waste bin. The only thing differentiating them from the rest is the ever increasing amount of blood that accompanies them.

There’s a television hanging on the other side of the wall, and it’s Akechi again, just how it always is. He’s talking about the Phantom Thieves, par for the course as far as those talk shows go, and every time Akira looks up at his smug, irritating - _charismatic, charming_ \- face, another petal pushes past his lips and into the trash can. At least it's slowing, though, and he can finally focus on breathing by the time the program cuts to a commercial. “Sorry,” he gasps out, trying to look up at his boss even though his eyes are attracted to the rainbow of petals in the trash and a lie is just about to form on his lips. “I....I don't know what's going on.”

“Do you love Akechi-san, Akira-kun?” She startles him with the question, and he lets out an unfortunately high pitched laugh. He’s sure that he doesn't - no, he does, but he _can't_ \- but letting his mind dwell on it is still a bad idea.

He tries to recover by smiling at her innocently. “Of course I don't,” he replies. “It's not like I can fall for somebody who I don't really know.”

 _No,_ there's a traitorous voice in the back of his mind- he imagines its owner to be a smug rose, most likely red or yellow. _But you can fall for somebody who greets you like a friend and always has time to talk to you after a long day. Somebody who can still treat you kindly, even with opposing ideals. Somebody who can see you like an equal and a rival. Somebody like Goro Akechi._

He imagines himself setting a lighter on the rose, trying to stamp it out, but the voice still erodes at his thoughts. His manager seems just as unconvinced as he feels, but instead of calling him a liar, she just frowns softly. “You really need to see somebody about this. _Hanahaki_ isn't a joke.”

“I'll be fine, really. A few flowers can't hurt me.” He tries to laugh and gesture at the bouquets lining the walls around them, but she looks somber, and his laughter trails off awkwardly as he waits for her to say something, _anything._

She's silent for a long time before speaking softly, her words sending a jolt of- of _something_ straight down his spine.

“Akira-kun, _hanahaki_ is fatal.”

 

* * *

 

“There are two solutions,” Tae explains when he finally throws away his pride and visits her. “The first is the more ‘natural’ method. See, if love and pain are the catalyst for the tumor, then love and relief are the cure. If you can realize that your feelings are requited, it’s enough of a shock to the system that the flowers will completely eject from your body and bam, you’re cured.”

“So you’re saying to confess,” he sums it up hopefully, but she clicks her tongue. It’s never that simple, and he should have realized it by now.

“Not quite. It seems simple, yes, but if you get rejected, the pain plus the tumor’s advancement may be enough to kill you on the spot.” The mere thought of it - rejection or death, he doesn’t know what he fears more - makes him retch slightly, and she recoils as he spits a handful of purple petals into his hand. “Sorry, I really shouldn’t be aggravating you any further.”

He shakes his head, brushing the rose bits into the trash as he speaks. “No, I have to know this. If I can’t do that safely, then what’s my alternative?”

She sighs before standing up and turning away from him to look out the window. He braces himself slightly; she's not looking at him directly, which makes him feel as though she's about to make him feel even worse. “There.... _is_ a second method.” He doesn't interrupt her, although she gives him a chance before continuing. “It's not _perfect_ by any means, but there's a surgeon I know who specializes in _hanahaki_ surgery. He can get rid of it completely and, with the right connections, pretty cheap.”

He frowns. Tae always has what he needs, and money is no problem when demons drop yen like it's going out of style, but..... “There’s a catch.”

“There's _always_ a catch.” She clears her throat before pointing at a chart on the wall. “While the flowers manifest in the respiratory and pulmonary systems - the lungs and the heart - the seeds, or rather, the _virus_ presides in the brain. We have to remove those completely to get rid of it for good, and....well, there's no mincing words. You'd lose all memories of them.”

His breath catches, and she frowns, scribbling a few notes down on her board. He's staring not at her, but _through_ her as he tries to process the information. It's dangerous to lose memories of your greatest enemy, but Akira would be stupid to think that's all there is. Walking into _LeBlanc_ , not recognizing the detective sitting at the counter and welcoming him home, even if _jokingly_ \- his stomach curls uncomfortably, and his teeth bite down on the petals trying to poke through his lips. “I....I don't want that,” he says finally, after spitting the traitorous rose bits into the trash. “I don’t want to forget.”

“Of course you don't.”

Takemi is downcast as she speaks, but not surprised. Given his situation, he can’t say that her reaction is too shocking. After all...

“If you did, you wouldn't have _hanahaki._ ”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t know what to tell the others, not when they’re all worried sick about his spontaneous human florification, but as it turns out, he doesn’t have to. About a week after his first trip to Takemi’s clinic - the first involving his _hanahaki,_ at least - Ryuji slaps down a brochure in front of him just as Akira’s finishing up his chores behind the counter. The café is empty, and maybe that's for the best because this is a conversation Akira doesn't want to have in front of a gaggle of strangers. He’s looking down at the cup he’s drying, but his eyes flicker to the front of it - _flowers in YOUR throat?_ makes it sound like either a landscaping advertisement or bad internet meme, he can't decide - and he doesn’t lift his gaze even as Ryuji speaks.

“Do you mind tellin’ us who it is?”

He hesitates just a moment before raising his head to look at the rest of the group. They’re all clustered around, showing varying, but never small, amounts of worry. He almost wants to laugh because he can tell what they’re all thinking; it’s written on each of their faces, even without using Third Eye. They would do anything for him, and he them, and he thinks fondly that if it was any one of them, they’d try their damnedest to love him.

Even if they couldn’t, they’d at least _try._

As it is, a small snort escapes his mouth, but it’s derisive. Self-loathing. Of course he has to go and fall for the one person he can’t have. It’s such an Akira....no, such a _Joker_ thing to do. “Do I have to?” His question is quiet, and it’s met with equal silence. None of them _want_ to force him, but they know they _have_ to.

Finally, Makoto breaks the tension. “No,” she speaks slowly but surely. “But we want you to. Honor among thieves, isn’t that right?”

There are murmurs and nods among the others, and even a reassuring paw from Morgana, seated next to his hand where he’s sure to incur Soujiro’s wrath. “We’re the Phantom Thieves of Hearts,” he mews resolutely, “and you’re our leader. No matter what, we’ll support you with anything.”

He breathes in, trying to hide how shaky it is. They say that now, but he’s not sure if they’ll say the same thing once he tells them. Hell, he’s still not sure of it himself. Still, he can’t keep secrets from his closest confidants, and so he sighs in resignation.

“It’s Akechi.”

There’s a long moment of silence, followed by an uncertain laugh from Ryuji. “Seriously, dude, now’s not the time for jokes. I mean, it’s....” He trails off upon seeing Akira stare down at the counter, fists clenching tightly, leaving crescent marks in his palm. “Shit, dude.”

He breathes out softly; it’s almost relief that’s flooding his veins instead of sickness. The way Ryuji curses is light, as though it’s _awkward_ instead of _reprehensible._ Bad luck, rather than betrayal. None of the other Phantom Thieves are saying anything, but it’s the same with them, and he can’t blame them. Falling in love with the enemy? It’s laughable, at _best._ Although, frankly, they’re not exactly the poster children of _normalcy,_ either, and Ann’s the first to remind him of it when she slams her fist into her palm, surprising everybody with the sound.

“Well, then! If that's the case, then we should make the best of it, right? We've stolen hearts before, it's not like this is impossible to-”

She's cut off as the door to _LeBlanc_ swings open with a gentle chime, and the worst possible person enters the room. “I'm sorry,” is Akechi’s response to the awkward silence and stares that he receives. “Did I interrupt something? Perhaps I should just....leave......”

Akira looks at him, sees the worry towards him etched on the detective’s face - _it's not genuine, he's a liar, there's nothing here to love,_ all things he's tried to convince himself of before - and groans softly before ducking behind the counter, hidden by both the tabletop and his friends, to once again bloom.

 

* * *

 

“Two jobs, I see?” Of all the places for Akechi to show up, Akira’s safe haven has never been on the list, and yet here he is, perusing bouquets underneath Shibuya. It’s a coincidence, of course it has to be, but a skip in his heartbeat convinces Akira that he wants to think it’s something else. That Akechi had visited him specifically.

He’s long since resigned himself to the abhorrently schoolgirl-like thoughts.

“Yeah,” he replies, ducking behind the counter to pretend that he’s sorting something so he can clear his throat of rose petals. They're yellow on this particular day. “Not a fan of being cooped up in that café all the time.” He laughs bashfully and plays with his bangs in good customer service fashion, completely ignoring the way his manager is staring at him from across the tiny store; he can't tell if it's because he's casually talking to a famous celebrity or because he's casually talking to the guy who's inching him closer to his rose-filled death, but the horror in her eyes sways his opinion towards the latter. “How about you?” Akira tilts his head to mock curiosity. “Looking for a gift for your girlfriend?”

Akechi laughs, and Akira promptly stomps down the accusation in his brain that he’s asking not as a joke, but because he's legitimately interested. “No, nothing like that,” is Akechi’s answer. “A wedding, actually, for a co-worker. I wanted to buy something symbolic, but I'll admit that I know little of _hanakotoba_.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” They've joked around as much before, and while the flowers in his throat are still threatening, he feels well enough to keep the banter. “Well, I'm assuming you want something more unique than roses?” His eyes skim the room after getting an affirmative hum from Akechi, looking at what they have available. “Lavender represents faithfulness, if you want the couple to be together for a long time. Forget-me-nots stand for true love, dahlias- no, the groom might get mad.”

“What do dahlias represent?”

“Good taste.” Akira takes the initiative to wink, and Akechi covers his mouth to hide an amused laugh. “I'm terrible, I know. Hm, what about pure love? I think lilies would go well with-”

“No.” For as little as Akechi has spoken so far, Akira is surprised at the firm rejection, leaving no room for compromise. He seems to have startled himself as well, but recovers fairly quickly, coughing into his fist. “Ah, I mean I would rather not. I simply dislike lilies.”

The response is a bit too extreme for somebody who _simply dislikes_ a species of flower, but Akira doesn't push it; instead he nods and finds an excuse to agree. “Yeah, could be a problem if the newlyweds have any pets, too. I ate one on accident once when I was a kid, ended up in the ER. They're beautiful, but nasty things.”

Akechi raises an eyebrow at the personal anecdote, but smiles. “Nasty things do tend to be the most beautiful, don't they?”

Akira doesn't even consider the innuendo to be assumed towards him, since he's already applying it to Akechi. The way he can't help but feel kinship with a detective who's both attractive and trying to kill him- nasty and beautiful, as though Akechi himself exists to prove his words correct.

Internally, Akira huffs. Damn flowers, damn love, damn detective ruining his life in two different worlds.

“Yeah,” he says after a brief pause, smiling and hoping the petals in his stomach wait until Akechi is gone to burst into bloom. “I guess they do.”

 

* * *

 

It’s barely a month later, and vines are stinging in his throat even as he tries to drag out his own death sentence. “Just give me more time.”

“You don't _have_ more time, Joker.” Mona is almost seething, something he's never seen in the cat before. “ _We_ don't have more time. Shido’s deadline is coming up, and whether you like it or not, we have to take Akechi down, too.”

Joker is their leader, his word has been law up until this point, but now it’s all falling down around him and he’s not sure if the way his vision swims is because of his illness or the way his chest seizes up every time Mona looks at him. He doesn’t feel like Joker at the moment, even though they’re alone in Mementos and Arsene is still summoned right behind him. He doesn’t feel like an all-powerful phantom thief, or a supernatural bringer of justice.

No, he feels like Akira, being reprimanded by a cat who can probably do his job better than he’s done so far. “I’m not going to let it end like this. There has to be a way to change his heart-”

“He tried to _kill_ you! We’re not on negotiating terms with anybody who messes with our leader. We’re going to end him, and then you’re going to remove that mess in your brain.” There’s no way Mona doesn’t notice the way he flinches back at his words, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t care, but Joker suspects that it’s because _somebody_ has to make the tough decisions for him. “Do you understand, Joker? This isn’t about us anymore. This is about you, and _we’re_ going to make sure you stay safe, even if you hate us for it.”

Except he can’t hate them for anything, even if they think otherwise. They’re his closest comrades, his confidants, and he understands that this is what’s best for him. Even if it may feel as though his world would end without that piece of him, he knows it’s for the best. But still, he can’t help but fight back; fight for himself, fight for Akechi, fight for the delusional part of his mind that believes something better can come from all of this fighting.

“We’ll see about that.”

He supposes he’s just a rebel at heart.

 

* * *

 

“Akechi-”

The world tilts and spins and Akira half believes that maybe the roots have finally gotten to his lungs because he can’t _breathe,_ but it’s so much more than that. It’s the panic as Akechi signs his own death warrant, as unyielding in unnecessary sacrifice as he was in selfish sunk-cost revenge.

“Do this for me,” he exclaims, staring directly at Akira even as his fist clenches around his gun. “I can’t go on, so you better damn well finish this for me.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth and struggling with some unknown emotion before removing his hand. “I doubt I was going to make it out alive anyways.”

There’s a look of pain on Akechi’s face as he pulls the trigger, shooting past Akira and hitting a button on the far end of the hall, and the sirens that start wailing around them do nothing to drown out the heartbeat in Akira’s ears. Death, suicide, goddamn _useless martyrdom when he can live-_ “We can still help you,” he shouts, but Akechi’s gun is trained back on him, and he freezes in his tracks.

_“Let me have some secrets, too.”_

_“I simply dislike lilies.”_

_“I doubt I was going to make it out alive anyways.”_

There’s a flash of white poking at Akechi’s pained smile, and he’s still struggling as he stares at the Phantom Thieves. This time, however, there’s no attempt to cover it up, and white teeth part slightly, making room for equally white petals and yellow stamens and a myriad of other parts that could only have come from the remains of flowers.

Akira feels sick, clutching his mouth and gasping weakly at the way his own body reacts upon seeing the lilies drop from Akechi’s mouth moments before the walls slam down with a loud crash.

_“Oh.”_

Nothing can stop the rainbow of petals flowing past his own fingers.

 

* * *

 

“No more coughing fits, huh? Good for you.”

He doesn’t _feel_ good, and he’s glad Tae can recognize that, because she says nothing more about it. “Other than that, your vitals have checked out perfectly. Looks like you’re free to go...unless you want to test something out for me today.”

“I’ll pass,” he says quietly; he’s not afraid of her _tests_ anymore, but he’s too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to deal with anything the doctor may have planned.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She’s his doctor, not his therapist. “I’ll pass on that, too.”

She’s quiet for a moment, before she stands up. “Wait just a minute. I’ll be back.” She disappears into another back room, and when she comes back, his stomach flips. In her hands is a white lily, in pristine condition as if picked seconds before. “It’s.....not exactly a rose, but maybe it’ll help. I dunno. I usually deal with bupropion, not bouquets.”

Despite his better judgment, he takes it. Memories flash through his mind - they always do, he can’t stop them, but at least they’re not _killing_ him anymore - but he shoves them away and stands up to take his leave. “Hey, thanks.”

“No problem,” is her quick, uncertain answer, as if she hadn’t helped with anything. She has, even if she doesn’t understand why. As he turns his back on her clinic, he stares at the flower in his hands as if it’s the reason his whole life has been a bell curve of disasters. In irritation, he throws it down on the ground, wishing that everything had never happened. That maybe he _should_ have taken her offer, that he should have cut his losses and lived without love instead of living with a love who didn’t live.

He crushes it under his foot.

It just isn’t the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, notes I guess:
> 
> Rose colors didn't have any particular meaning, but lilies were chosen for several reasons. Their meaning in hanakotoba, Japanese flower language, is purity and chastity which is ironic (because of Akechi's bloodstained hands) but also fitting (Akechi has never truly felt loved or in love before, so Akira's is, in a sense, the purest form of love that he's ever received or given). The orange variants mean hatred and revenge, and while that was more fitting for the two, it also doesn't properly convey a relationship formed from affection, which the two crave even if they know they can never achieve it. Also, lilies are actually semi-toxic to humans and animals, which is why Akechi ends up in the hospital from swallowing too many of them (which is also symbolism for him swallowing his emotions!).
> 
> It's also fun to note that, while I didn't actually intend for this symbolism, roses (bara) and lilies (yuri) are indicative of same-sex relationships in Japan (roses are m/m and lilies are f/f).
> 
> I don't feel like I have to put this here, but just in case (because of other reasons, and also because a bunch of my older fics have been getting stolen recently and I don't appreciate it): I don't allow anybody to reprint this anywhere without my express permission, for profit or not. If you see this fic, or any of my others, anywhere other than here, on FFN (@gallifreyan annihilator) or on Tumblr (@kirilisms or @homosethsual), please let me know so I can get it taken down.


End file.
